


The Proper Care and Feeding of Subordinates

by donutsweeper



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more than enough for everyone, so why isn't anyone eating?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proper Care and Feeding of Subordinates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



Sam paused when he walked past the break room. G. was standing in the doorway, unnaturally still, with an odd look on his face, one Sam had never seen before. "G.? What's up?"

Instead of replying G. pointed to the countertop next to the coffee machine. It was positively overflowing with cookies and brownies and weird little cake-things that had some sort of edible looking bows tied around them. "Ooh, someone made cookies?" Sam quickly elbowed G. out of the way to get to the treats. He'd gathered several up in his hands and was about to shove one in his mouth when G.'s next words made him stop in his tracks.

"Hetty did."

Staring at the pile of powdered sugar and chocolate treats with instant suspicion, Sam dropped the desserts back on the pile as he choked out, "Hetty."

"Hetty," G. confirmed, nodding.

"Hetty made... cookies?" Sam couldn't quite keep the surprise and disbelief out of his voice as he looked to G. for confirmation.

"Yeah, Hetty made cookies." G.'s eyebrows raised even higher.

"And brownies?"

"And brownies."

"And," he picked up one of the little cake-things. "And... What the hell are these things anyway?"

"Petits fours. Apparently," G. cleared his throat and swallowed heavily. "Apparently, they're some kind of specialty of hers."

"Hetty cooks."

"Bakes," G. corrected.

"Fine, whatever. The point is Hetty bakes. And not only does she bake, she has a specialty? And made some of it for us?"

"I guess so," G. said with a shrug. "Unless it's all part of some sort of some..." he trailed off. "I mean, she likes us, right? At least I think she does. So, it's unlikely they're poisoned."

"She wouldn't poison us, too much paperwork."

"What's too much paperwork?" Kensi asked, appearing suddenly behind G. and peering over his shoulder. "Oooh, brownies!" She practically bowled G. over in her excitement as she ran for them.

"Wait, no!" G. shouted.

"Trying to keep them all for yourselves? Ain't going to happen, boys."

Sam's hand shot out and grabbed her arm she reached for a brownie, twisting it behind her back before she could snag one. "Kensi, don't!"

Kensi spun around and was about to counter with a blow to the solar plexus when G. explained, "Hetty made them."

That made Kensi stop cold, elbow millimeters from Sam's chest. "What?"

"Hetty. Baked. Us. Treats," G. said slowly, enunciating every word carefully.

"Hetty baked?" Kensi repeated, trying, and failing, to keep a look of shock off her face.

"Apparently," Sam said as he carefully released Kensi's arm. Grabbing it had been a risky move, but a necessary one.

"Hetty."

"Yep," Sam and G. replied, in unison.

"Well, that's just plain weird."

"What's weird?" Eric asked as he strode into the room, an empty coffee cup clutched between his hands. "Hey, these weren't here earlier. Which of you guys brought them?"

"We didn't. Erm," Kensi paused. "Hetty did."

Eric laughed. "No, seriously, which one of you brought them? Where'd you get them, anyway, they almost look homemade."

"Eric," G. said slowly, "Hetty left them here. I saw her do it with my own eyes. She even smiled at me and told me she spent all last night baking and hoped we'd enjoy them."

Eric put his coffee mug down on the counter with a loud thump. "You're kidding."

G. looked almost offended as he straightened up, bringing himself to his full height. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Grimacing, Eric said, "No. No, you don't."

The four of them stood and stared at the overloaded counter for a few minutes.

"They look... good," Eric said eventually, almost sheepishly.

"Yeah, they do," Sam agreed.

"And she must have put a lot of work into making these." Kensi stepped closer to examine the offerings. "I mean, there are at least five different types of cookies and two kind of brownies and the coconut thing, not to mention all of those little cakes with the bows."

"Petits fours. Those are petits fours," Sam explained.

"Hold on, since when do you know about things like petits fours?" Kensi asked, poking Sam playfully in the arm.

"G. told me," he admitted.

Kensi raised an eyebrow in G.'s direction upon hearing that. "G.?"

"Hetty told me," G. said with a shrug.

"Hetty told you what?" Deeks asked as he shoved his way into the room. "Oh, hey, petits fours glacés!"

"Petits fours glacés?" Eric, Kensi, G. and Sam all repeated, staring at Deeks.

"Yeah. Man, these are hard to make. And using a pipette to decorate them like that? That's not easy, especially when dealing with fondant in this weather. Don't get me wrong, I love Los Angeles, but... What are you all staring at?" He quickly rubbed his hand across his face. "I don't have pizza on my face, do I? I know most people don't think cold pizza for breakfast is the best way to start the day, but I've always found that it... Okay, seriously, stop staring."

Kensi crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned against the refrigerator. "Since when do you know anything about making fancy desserts?"

"Surprised?"

"Damn straight," Sam muttered just loud enough for G., who was standing next to him, to hear.

G. tried to cover his resulting snort with a short cough, not successfully however, if Eric's grin was anything to go by.

"I know things," Deeks protested. "Although," he added as he slowly looked around the room, "Even I have to admit, I don't have any idea why all of you are staring at me instead of tearing into that huge pile of desserts right over there."

"We were about to," Kensi explained. "Well, we were talking about doing that, anyway."

"What's to talk about? It's Russian teacakes and pfeffernüsse and krumkake and pizzelle and, oh, hey, crème de menthe brownies and seven layer dream bars, not to mention all the different petits fours glacés. It's dessert. You eat it."

"Normally, yeah. But," G. scratched his chin, still looking a bit off his game, "Hetty made them."

"So?"

"Hetty," Sam said, trying to clarify things for Deeks.

"And?"

"Hetty baked." Eric shuddered and then quickly added, "This is too weird for me, I'm out of here," before he fled from the room.

"Yeah, I got that from what G. and Sam said. So?"

"So, what do you mean, so? You are so, I just, I can't.... Augh!" Kensi threw her hands up in frustration and stormed out herself.

G. and Sam looked at one another, at the treats, and then at the door. "Well, we have to, um," Sam started.

"Yeah," G. replied. "We'd better."

"Later, Deeks," Sam said, slapping G. on the back and propelling him out the door.

"What'd I say?" Deeks wondered out loud. He shrugged. "Oh well, more for me." Leaning over the counter he chose a beautifully decorated green petit four with a red bow. Right before he popped it in his mouth he could have sworn he heard someone's laughter floating down the hall, but he decided he was imagining things.


End file.
